


House of Echoes

by exhaustetic



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Multi, Near Future, Post-War, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-27 15:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exhaustetic/pseuds/exhaustetic
Summary: It's been a year since Aelin Ashryver Galathynius took back her throne. A year since her Court fought tooth and nail for peace. A year since they left their horrors behind them.In that year, Aisling Wynslow has had little more to worry about than the bickering of her siblings and the scarcity of her savings.It's a simple life, but that simple life was hard won.But a force is rising, a force born from a shadow of what might have been. A force that wants nothing more than to burn that simple life to the ground.(previously titled "Survivor's Guilt")





	1. i thought i knew my survivor's guilt

> _“Tell me how wrong it is: I’ve made a home of your mouth. I shiver for this. I asked for this. Take out your sharp like the good silverware. The night stretched thin but I would never force you to stay. We were believers once, to something taken up residence below the ribs. **I thought I knew my survivor’s guilt** , the day we ran out of hot water. How we were always running out of things, like what to say & time & yellow light.”  
>  \- Ana Carrizo, “Survivor’s Guilt”_

 

**//**

 

He could have picked any of them, he would have picked any of them.

Any of the souls that wandered that street, thrumming with vitality. Tempting him, luring him, enticing him.

He had never liked to be fussy, he didn’t see the point. It was always the same – the warmth, the power, the humanity. But none of them looked like her. And he wanted to send a message.

Once that was done, he would have a little fun. His fingers itched for it, the need roared in his ears and echoed in his veins and pounded through his arteries. It was in his pulse, in his blood, in every fibre of his being. It always had been.

And then, he saw her.

She wasn’t perfect. Too tall, too round. He catalogued these mistakes, noted her heaviness of foot. They wouldn’t see the resemblance, not in her alone. Luckily, she wouldn’t be the only one.

With a sigh, he pushed off the wall. And got to work.

 

**//**

 

Penn looked smug. It made me nervous.

“What’s that look for?” I asked, settling atop the table and worming out of my jacket, leaning the tiny distance towards the counter and stealing a sliver of carrot. My older brother hadn’t worn an expression far from worry or shame in weeks. I’d almost forgotten what his smile looked like, and even that – some self-satisfied smirk that twisted his lips – was a welcome reminder.

Penn opened his mouth to reply, but any sound was drowned by the shrieking of Luce and Greer as they trundled down the stairs. Luce didn’t often make a fuss – at thirteen, she was the picture of adolescent indifference and superiority. But she and Greer had been fighting more often than not those days.

“Aisling.” Greer was stuttering down the hall, the sounds of stomping and scuffling and shoving echoed her words. “Aisling! Tell Luce to take it off!”

“It’s mine!” Luce insisted, when they rounded into the kitchen – the two of them a tangle of tan skin and golden hair.

“It doesn’t even _fit_ her anymore!” Greer ripped at Luce’s skirt, insistent that it did, in fact, fit.

“Can you two just shut the rutting hell up.” Penn said, tiredly. He didn’t even lift his grey eyes from the carrots. “You’re a constant bloody headache.”

“Penn.” I scolded and darted from the table to pull Luce away from Greer. “Greer, you need to get used to Luce wearing your hand-me-downs. Luce, you need to stop egging her on.”

“I wasn’t…” Luce began.

“Luce.” I sighed, shooting her a look. She frowned, and skulked back down the hall, her steps reverberated through the house as she made her way upstairs. Greer resigned herself to the kitchen, and Penn set her to work getting the water on the boil. I don’t wonder about the location of Ewan and Conley – the youngest of my siblings – they’d spent the day at the docks with Penn’s friend, Angus. “You could help, you know.” I told Penn, irate at again having to be the authoritarian.

“What?” Penn was completely oblivious. Neither of us liked having to act in the place of our late parents, but Penn often forewent even the illusion of reprimands and responsibility.

“So, what’s the news?” I asked instead, looking to Penn.

He grinned at me – a real grin. “I got a job.”

“Penn! You’re joking!” I jumped up from the table, bounded into the kitchen, and pulled him into a hug.

“Where? When do you start? What does it pay?”

“At the palace, joining the Guard. Angus got me the job.” Penn said as I pulled away from him.

“A Royal Guard.” I breathed. You could hardly hope for a better job in Orynth, not without a title or connections or a loaded pocket. Though low-ranking officers were essentially glorified security guards that were assigned to keeping the peace in the slums, even the base pay rate was almost twice what he used to earn.

“I start tomorrow. Training.” Penn said, still grinning as he returned to the vegetables.

“We have to celebrate! I’ll go to the market, get some cakes and…”

“Aisling.” Penn frowned. “We can’t afford…”

“I know what we can afford.” I shot back. “I’ll be back in twenty. Hopefully Angus has bought back Conley and Ewan by then.”

Penn was right, to an extent. Things were hard, and our savings were slim. Penn lost his job at the butcher four weeks ago, and even with my taking double shifts at the inn almost every day, we were scraping the barrel. Our parents left us some money when they died, but that had wallowed away into funeral expenses and maintaining bills in the early days of their passing. While I wouldn't mind not having to scrub so many stains out of Penn’s clothes, the lack thereof was an unhappy alternative when it came with the constantly-looming threat of poverty and eviction. Greer and Luce already lived in my hand-me-downs, and I was forever hemming Penn’s clothes for Ewan and Ewan’s for Conley.

We shopped exclusively at the market before closing, when the grocers were desperate to get rid of their almost-stale bread and wilting vegetables. I got a good price on half a dozen eclairs and an overcooked apple cake – Penn’s favourite – but almost lost them when Conley barrelled me over as soon as I returned home. My youngest brother - tiny and round and innocent – had always been excitable.

“Hey, watch it.” I tutted, smoothing back his hair as he clung to my side. We made our way into the house, an odd sort of three-legged race, with Conley chattering my ear off the whole while.

“There she is!” Angus has a booming voice, and every syllable resonates like a thudding echo. His whole being booms, really. He is impossible to ignore, a walking talking riot of muddy hair and a ginger beard and barrelling arms.

"I suppose I have you to thank for this one’s good fortune.” I said as a greeting, sidling past his attempts to wrap me into a hug and instead lifting a thumb in Penn’s direction. Angus, Penn’s best and oldest friend, is a Royal Guard, not very high ranking but he must’ve had more sway than I had thought to get Penn in. When the two of them stand close like this, it’s hard not to notice Penn’s slightness. He’s muscular in a wiry way, all of us Wynslow’s are – a by-product of long weeks living off leftovers and scraps and doing our best but falling miserably short. I daren’t think on it too much, or I’ll most likely jinx it – but I’ve seen what the families of the Guardsmen can afford. Penn wouldn’t look too out of place for too much longer. Greer and Isolde won’t have to fight for the clothes anymore. “Eclairs!” Greer snatched the greased paper bag from my clutches.

“Dinner first!” Penn ordered, ladling stew into bowls plonking them haphazardly and unceremoniously onto the table, slopping a portion of the contents onto the battered pine.

“You working later?” Angus asked, sitting beside where I’ve arranged myself and Conley.

“Later.” I nod, pushing a bowl towards Conley. “Where is Ewan? And Luce?”

Penn solves the issue by bellowing their names, and soon I can hear them tumbling down the stairs.

“I’ll walk you.” Angus said. It was not a suggestion.

“Don’t trouble yourself.” I said. It was not a suggestion.

“I don’t mind.” He didn’t get the hint.

I don’t reply, but rather turn to push Conley’s chair in. He’s short for his four years - not quite tall enough to reach the table comfortably and he was doing a brilliant job of sloshing more food down his front than in his mouth. Somehow, he’s managed to get a streak of broth in his chestnut hair and across his freckled forehead.

“Can I come with you?” Ewan asked, his mouth full of bread and somehow still lisping through his two missing teeth. “Is Hal working?” Hal, the pub cook, is seven-year-old Ewan’s hero. A fact which still befuddles me.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” I scolded. “You have school tomorrow, and I’m working until close.”

“You can’t walk home alone.” Angus said, and continued – apparently unaware to the warning looks offered up by Penn. “It’ll be halfway to tomorrow morning before you’re out of there.”

“Hasn’t stopped me before.” I said, looking down at my bowl. “I can look after myself.”

“I don’t feel comfortable…” Angus started.

“That has nothing to do with me.” I replied, still not looking at him.

“Aisling is tough, she can beat people up!” Conley piped in, jumping in his seat and almost knocking his bowl and my own in the process.

“I’m sure she can, but…” Angus didn’t know when to stop.

“I’m going to be late.” I stood up, and put on my coat. “See you later, be good,” I added, pressing a kiss to Conley’s forehead and avoiding making eye-contact with both Penn and Angus. The former because he knew it was an excuse, the latter because I wanted to avoid another thinly-veiled argument.

I arrived at the pub half an hour early, but I’d rather hang around in the kitchen waiting for my shift to start than deal with Angus’ misplaced possessiveness. He’d been dropping hints about marrying me for years, hinting that our being together is inevitable without considering the complete unwillingness on my behalf. Penn thought I was being ridiculous, and had told me in as many words that I was unlikely to find someone better than Angus, that he’d take care of me and I wouldn’t have to work, that I’d be content. Safe. But I don’t want to settle.

I hardly had time to wallow in irritation when my shift started. Jonas hadn’t shown up – again - and so Bess had been relegated to deal with the inundation of patrons at the bar – leaving Meg to take care of the floor. Meg is monotonous in both looks and personality, and whenever something went wrong she tended to disappear out the back until the situation had been resolved by someone else.

I took the rowdiest section, a double-edged sword – the tips are great but they hardly made up for the bullshit you dealt with. The Green Lion, while being perhaps the most ridiculously named establishment in Orynth, was popular with rabble and the upper classes alike. Its proximity to the castle makes it a beacon for palace workers and dignitaries, and its cheap drinks are a lure for the low-born willing to travel all the way from the slums for a beer.

That night there were a lot of them.

“Did you hear about the girl?” Bess asked me, during a momentary lull, continuing at my quizzical look. “Nasty stuff, found her body near the docks. Apparently, it was pretty similar to the girl they found the other week too. Scary stuff, huh?”

“Yeah.” I agreed, but was pulled from any real consideration of the information Bess had so nonchalantly offloaded by another flood of orders to the bar.

The usual rush was punctuated by fights and brawls, broken up by a well-practiced Bess – the trick, she’s told me, is to offer a round on the house. Apparently, she hadn’t passed on this information to Meg, who was manning the bar while Bess takes a breather.

“Fight.” She told me as I dropped off a tray of empty tankards to the bar, and promptly disappeared out the back without so much as a second glance. I groaned, cursing her.

Hal emerged from the door Meg had disappeared into, “Meg said there was a...”

“Fight," I finished for him, nodding towards the burgeoning crowd, “better break it up.”

Hal is an imposing sight, even in his patched, floral chevron apron. His hulking form is more suited for an underground boxing circle than the kitchen, but he’s completely harmless. Of course, patrons don’t know that.

It took him less than a minute to prise the two culprits apart, and the larger of the two saw Hal’s form and balked – resigning himself. The other wasn’t so smart, and was still winding himself up to land another hit. But he didn’t need to throw the punch to cause any damage – his elbow flew back and caught me in the middle of my face. I don’t know if I passed out, but I can’t remember falling. The next thing I know I was sprawled across the floor and I could feel my nose swelling by the second. It was a struggle to even sit up, but thankfully I was not on my own in that.

My vision, blurred as it was, didn’t prevent me from noticing the hand that reached down to pull me up – and it didn’t prevent me from recognising that the incredibly attractive man to whom the hand belonged wasn’t really a man, but Fae. Seeing Fae wasn’t really a shock. In the year since the Queen returned, Orynth had become a sort of hub of Fae activity.

You got used to it quickly.

So, I don’t even blanch as he pulled me up with far too much ease – a consequence of the corded muscle bulging under his shirt. “You right?” He asked, releasing me to balance on my own.

“Swell.” I replied, my voice muffled and clogged. I was having trouble remaining balanced, and before I could become reacquainted with the floor the Fae male reached out and pulled me up to sit on the bar. “I’m fine,” I protested, swatting his hands away from my waist.

“Sure.” He ignored me, instead prodding a calloused finger at my nose.

“Ouch, back off.” I hissed. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, and you look it too.” He rolled his eyes at me, clearly exasperated.

“Didn’t you know this was a good day for me?” I retorted, trying to push him away so I could jump off the bar and clean myself up.

“Your nose is broken.” He didn’t budge.

“Wow.” I deadpanned, glaring at him. “Would you let me go?”

“I could reset it, if you like?” He asked, not looking at me and instead picking dirt out from under his fingernails casually, like he pinned waitresses to bars and teased them relentlessly every other day.

“You’re not bleeding anymore, but that’s a nasty cut you’ve got on your lip.” He might’ve, for all I knew.

“I can manage.” I said, though I wasn’t sure how I would manage to reset my nose on my own. Even if I had made it home, none of my siblings were budding first aid experts.

“Sure.” He repeated, still not looking at me. I huff, and try to nudge him away with my knee. He didn’t budge, and – taking in the sheer size of him – I didn’t see myself overpowering him any time soon. He was easily more than six foot tall, and almost as broad. I might have been exaggerating, but this guy looked like he’s been on some kind of crazy Fae steroids. His hair was nice, too – waves of bronze and gold and copper.

“You have nice hair.” I told him, softly. It had the desired effect, he looks up – startled, and I used the distraction to slide away from him and drop from the bar.

And promptly fall to the ground again.

His laugh was almost as nice as his hair, but I didn’t particularly enjoy the musical rasping. He doesn’t immediately offer me his hand, preferring to watch me struggle to stand on my own. I don’t know what Hal, Bess, Meg – everyone really – was doing, but the Fae seemed to be the sole witness to my strife. When he finally offers to help me, it comes with a condition.

“Will you finally accept my help now?” He asked and I grumbled, but didn’t decline. Within seconds, I was balancing on the bar again. I was slow to register the jolt of pain as his fingers prodded at my nose.

I felt oddly faint, disconnected from my body, as I felt cartilage slide against itself under my skin. My hair stood on end and I shoved the Fae away as soon as I am able, discombobulated. “You’re welcome.” He said, but didn’t resist to my shoving.

“I’ll thank you when I’ve stopped feeling like there’s something crawling under my skin.”

“Stop being dramatic.” He told me, watching as I jumped from the bar and managed to stand on my own two feet, albeit shakily.

“Thank you.” I said, somewhat awkwardly. I noticed that Hal had shuffled all the customers out, and was, with Meg, straightening up the room.

Bess appeared from the kitchen, seemingly unaware of what had transpired. “Rutting hell, Aisling!” She gasped, rushing over to me and making a fuss, fluttering her hands and shaking her head. “Your face! Bloody hell!”

“Is there something wrong with my face?” I asked, and Bess – who had been reaching to slap my arm – jolted at the sound of the Fae’s laugh.

“Oh...” She said, not at all subtle as she scanned him with her eyes. “ _Hello_.”

“Well.” I said, nudging Bess to get her to stop making eyes at the Fae – who after a cursory glance at Bess, had returned his gaze to me. “Thanks again, I should really get home.”

“How?” He asked, still watching me.

“What?” I replied, disconcerted.

“How are you getting home?” He sounded far too concerned.

“I’m walking?” I said, quizzical. “It’s not far.”

“You could have a concussion, you shouldn’t walk alone.”

“I can look after myself.” I insisted, feeling as though this conversation was redundant. I’d had it too many times that day already. Of course, he didn’t know that.

“I’m sure,” I wasn’t able to place his tone. “I’ll walk you.”

“Bess can walk me.” I said, quickly. Too quickly. He raised his eyebrows at me, mocking.

“It’s completely out of my way.” Bess whined, but she looked at me like I should be thanking her. Her eyes told me she thought she was doing me a favour. Some friend. Some favour.

“How do I know you’re not a murderer? Or a rapist? Or a…”

The Fae sighed, and didn’t immediately reply. Rather, he gestured to the insignia on his cloak. It’s familiar; a common symbol to be seen on patrons of The Green Lion. The emblem of the palace guard.

"You’re a Royal Guard?” I said, taken aback.

“I’m the Captain of the Guard.” He smirked, victorious.

“I don’t even know your name!” I said, reaching. “And you don’t even know mine.”

“Oh, my gods, you’re so stubborn sometimes.” Bess shook her head, and then walked off to speak with Meg.

“Your friend has a point.” The Fae pointed out. “And, for the record, Aisling, my name is Fenrys.”

“How do you know…” I started.

“Your friend… Bess?” Fenrys replied, smirking. “Shall we make a move?” I nodded, and bid goodbye to my friends, leading Fenrys down the road.

It was quiet, and all I could hear are my own footsteps. Fenrys was silent beside me, and I guess he’d probably had far more practice in moving silently than I. “My brother is a palace guard too.” I said, torn between my discontentment with the silence and my unwillingness to let Fenrys get on my nerves and under my skin – something which, even in the minute time in which we’d been acquainted, he seemed to take particular pleasure in.

“Your brother?” He questioned. “What’s his name?”

“Penn Wynslow.” I said, “he hasn’t started yet, tomorrow he begins training.”

“He’ll be working with Safiya then, she handles most of the training.” Fenrys considered.

I nodded, “his friend, Angus, he got him the job.”

“Angus Beech?” Fenrys asked, and I nodded again. “Good guy.”

“I guess.” I shrugged.

“You don’t sound like you like him very much.”

“I like him fine. Besides, it’s none of your business.”

“And we’re back to the stubbornness.” Fenrys sighed. “I thought we were making progress.”

“Yeah, I was going to invite you to my birthday slumber party. We’ll get matching outfits.” I deadpanned.

“Oh, I love a good frilly nightgown.” Fenrys bit. “Are you always this nice? A radiant pleasure to be around?”

“I am a delight.” I said, as we took a left, “this is my street.”

“You live in the slums?” Fenrys was taken aback, and his tone cut deep.

I don’t need anyone’s pity. “Sorry if it’s not quite up to your standards.” I said, bracingly. “I can manage from here.”

“I didn’t mean to offend…”

“I’m not.” I recovered quickly.

"Aisling! Aisling!” Conley came screaming out of our house, practically tumbling down the stairs to the street.

Penn appeared in the doorway behind him, and had the decency to look abashed.

“What’re you doing up, mister.” I said, my tone immediately softening. I scooped Conley up in my arms and scanned his overtired features.

“I tried.” Penn said, standing above me at the top of the stairs. “He’s being stubborn. Wonder where he learned it.”

“Ha. Ha.” I enunciated, adjusting Conley on my hip.

“Who’s this?” Penn asked, eyes fixed on Fenrys, who stood a few steps back – watching the exchange before him almost curiously.

“Fenrys,” He stepped forward, extending a hand to shake Penn’s own. Penn descended and approached Fenrys, but immediately dropped his hand in shock, staring, transfixed, at my face.

“What in the rutting hell happened?” He took the stairs two at a time, and clutched my chin in his hand, turning it up to the light filtering through the open front door.

“I’m fine.” I pushed him away.

“What in the rutting hell happened.” It was not a question.

“There was a fight, at the bar.”

“Did you hurt Aisling? She could beat you up.” Conley turned in my arms to look at Fenrys with the most withering look a four-year-old could summon. “I’m going to be a knight, and I’ll get you. With a big sword.”

“Luckily, I had nothing to do with what happened to Aisling.” Fenrys humoured him. “I would hate to have you and your sword after me.”

Conley was delighted to be taken seriously, and apparently accepted what Fenrys had said as the truth. “He reset it, so it won’t heal badly.” I told Penn. “And he wouldn’t let me walk home alone.”

“You _broke your nose_.” Fenrys - indignant, frustrated by my attitude.

“Yes. Well.” I said. “Thank you.”

“I suppose I’ll see you around.” Fenrys said. “At the tavern.”

“Yes. Probably.” I agreed, watching as Fenrys disappears up the street and into the shadows. When I return my gaze to Penn, he’s shaking his head.

“What?” I asked as I carry Conley back inside.

“If I’m right, and that’s really Fenrys – the legendary Fae warrior and Captain of the Guard…” Penn shook his head and closed the door. “Only you. Only you could break your nose and probably make a complete fool of yourself, but still end up with one of the mightiest warriors in history wrapped around your finger.”

“It’s a gift.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is it! You have no idea what I'm talking about... But trust me, this is a big deal! I've been working on this story since Empire of Storms came out, and I always meant to post it - but I've lost this doc like seven times (most of which I am not to blame for, except for the time that I dropped my phone in the toilet) and so it hasn't happened. Until now!
> 
> So, let me know what you think!


	2. bigger than love, bigger than aloneness

_“There is something big coming, / **bigger than love, bigger than aloneness**. / She’s staying up all night for it.”_

_Sharon Olds (from One Secret Thing: Poems; “Something is Happening”)_

Luce wouldn’t stop complaining, and Ewan and Conley had been bickering since we’d left home.

It wasn’t often that I had to bring my siblings to work with me, Though Ewan did regularly demand he come with me to see Hal, Luce had always been stoically opposed to the idea. Conley fell somewhere in the middle, but was easily placated with promises of new crayons and the chance to catch a glimpse of the palace guards and other sword-wielding patrons of the Green Lion.

“Why can’t I just stay home? I’m old enough.” Luce protested, dragging her feet.

“No, you are not.” I countered. “We’ve discussed this. Penn is on night duty and I’ve got the dinner shift, and Greer has been looking forward to Reyna’s birthday for weeks. You can suck it up and come to work with me, you’ve got your book.”

Luce huffed and scowled at me, dragging her feet more – if possible.

“Listen,” I said, more softly. “Just cooperate with me on this, I’ve got the day off tomorrow and we can do whatever you want.”

“Can we go to the bookstore?” Luce asked, brightening. “The market too?”

“Whatever you want.” I replied, relieved that she seemed to have been swayed.

“Aisling?” Conley and Ewan had stopped bickering over who got to carry which toy, and the former had begun wriggling his hand into mine, becoming so desperate for my attention that he was practically yanking my arm out of its socket. “Is Angus going to be there?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” I said, thankful that he’d stopped his abuse against my wrist. “There’s usually a few Guards.”

Conley shook my arm in excitement, chattering on about knights and warriors and all the questions he wanted to ask them.

“No, Conley.” I stopped him and bent to meet his eye. “You mustn’t annoy them, please. I might get in trouble, you don’t want me to be in trouble, do you?”

Conley shook his head mournfully, but then piped up hopefully, “if Angus is there, can I...?”

“If Angus is there, you can bother him to your hearts content.”

As each of my siblings had some sort of bribe, they were happy as I set them up at a booth near the kitchen door. It was the lull between lunch and dinner, and so the crowd was limited to a few drunks nursing tankards at the bar and the odd group lingering after a late lunch. Jonas, on time for once, appeared at my side as I helped Conley gather his crayons and set up his colouring. Luce was already buried in a book and Ewan was bouncing to be let into the kitchen.

“You bought the munchkins.” Jonas commented, accepting a hug from Ewan and Conley. Luce didn’t look up. “Lucky the boss isn’t in.”

“Is he ever in?” I asked, and Jonas laughed. Paddy, the proprietor of The Green Lion, was a cantankerous old man – notoriously cheap, loathing of women and children and everyone who was not one of his gambling associates. He was seldom seen on the premises – preferring to remain in his home in the country.

“Lord, did your sister do that to herself?” Jonas asked, eyeing Luce.

Luce, gangling and angry and bracing. Luce, who’s hair had fallen in lovely platinum waves. Luce, who greeted me in the dining room three days ago with half her hair hacked off with blunt kitchen scissors. She’d hardly been phased as I’d forced her into a chair and tried my best to neaten her handy-work. I’d wanted to weep as I fiddled with the ends, but she seemed more pleased than anything with her blunt new locks.

“Damn near ruined our scissors trying to fix it.” I told Jonas, shaking my head. “Wouldn’t tell me why she did it.”

Luce, the quietest of all my siblings, had been even more closed-mouthed than usual when I had tried to discover why she thought she couldn’t wait for a proper haircut. It’d bothered me, and for more than the fact that I’d envied her hair for years. Of all my siblings, I alone had inherited my mother’s ebony hair. The rest of them were cast in various blonde and golden hues credited to our father.

I led Ewan into the kitchen, and Hal obliged him a hug and set him to work helping with the dishes. Ewan was delighted with this menial task, and I shot Hal a thankful smile – which he brushed away with his usual good-naturedness.

I had little time to check on my siblings once the rush kicked in. It was a Friday night, and Hal was making his famous roast beef – which always drew a crowd. I managed to slip Conley, Luce and Ewan – who was bustled from the kitchen when it got too busy – a couple of bread rolls, but it wasn’t until much later that I can provide them with any real food. During a lull in the orders, I managed to drop them a plate of something more substantial – but Conley wasn’t distracted by the food for too long.

“Angus!” He whooped, standing up on the cracked leather of the booth and waving. “Aisling! It’s Angus!”

Sure enough, a heavy arm dropped on my shoulders and I glanced up to find Angus’ blue eyes glinting down at me. “How’s it going, all?”

“Hello.” I greeted, shrugging out from under his arm.

“Hi Angus.” Luce didn’t look up from her book.

“Angus! I helped in the kitchen!” Ewan told him enthusiastically, but his greeting is nothing compared to Conley – who proceeded to climb over the table and into Angus’ arms.

“Hey buddy.” Angus laughed.

“Hi Angus! Are you here with other guards? Aisling said that I couldn’t annoy any of them except you!” Conley nattered.

“Well, if Aisling said…” Angus winked at me, like we were sharing some sort of inside joke. I managed a polite smile in return. “C’mon buddy, you can sit with me.”

Angus carried away Conley, who grinned ecstatically at me over his shoulder. Luce and Ewan didn’t make a move, the former barely looked up from her book and the latter asked me if he can go see Hal again.

Unfortunately, Ewan didn’t get another chance to visit Hal. Tables and booths were claimed as soon as they were emptied, and the rush of food and drink orders didn’t seem to be stopping. Though, it did slow to the point that I was able to check on Conley when I had a spare second.

As soon as I appeared, Conley jumped excitedly in Angus’ lap. “Aisling! This is my sister, Aisling!” He told the handful of friends Angus is eating with. “She’s the best.”

“I’ll have to agree there.” Angus said, grinning at me seedily.

“I hope he’s not too much of a bother.” I apologised to Angus’ friends, who assured me that Conley is great entertainment. Their joking dropped off and they all turned their focus to something behind me.

“I see you bought a bodyguard.” A familiar voice joked.

Fenrys was behind me, flanked on one side by a Fae who was equally as formidable as Fenrys himself. Fenrys had pulled his hair back and as that I was not inhibited by dizziness and instability and possible head trauma, I was able to fully appreciate the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw.

He was unfairly good looking.

“I thought it was necessary.” I replied, facing him fully. “We get all sorts in here.”

“I’m offended.” Fenrys offered, “your face looks better.”

“All healed.” I said. It’s been just a week since our first meeting, but I’d tended to heal rather quickly recently.

“Hey!” Conley piped in, peering over Angus’ head. “You’re the guy who fixed Aisling’s face!”

“ _Fixed_ my face?” I poked his cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with my face.”

“Aisling!” Conley squealed, and I take that moment to scoop him up.

“C’mon, ratbag.” I squeezed him. “You’ve caused enough trouble.”

“You said I could annoy…”

“And, you have.” I said, ending the conversation. “Sorry, again.” I told Angus and his friends. The former was glancing between myself and Fenrys – as if he was trying to find the connection.

Fenrys and his companions move out of my way instinctively, but I felt their eyes on me all the way back to Luce and Ewan. When the tavern quietened down, I managed to weasel my siblings into helping with dishes in the kitchen, and resigned myself to clearing the abundance of plates from the restaurant floor. It was on the way back to the kitchen, arms laden with heavy plates, that Angus caught me.

“Aisling,” he slurred. His breath stunk of stale beer and he was leering uncomfortably close, the tankard clutched in his fist sloshed frothy liquor. I could tell there was only one thing on his mind. “You left."

“I’m working,” I replied, trying to move backwards – but I was flush against a table. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape. No avoiding the conversation.

“C’mon, ’ave a drink w’me.” He pleaded, and used his free hand to run his fingers down my arm. “Please?”

“I’m working.” I insisted, more firmly, trying to avoid flinching away from his touch.

“You’re always workin’, always.” He whined, and I was instantly reminded of Conley when he’s in a mood. “Y’know, when I asked you to get a drink w’me last month? You said you were working, but P- Penn said you were home.” He burped, and I felt a tide of nausea roll over me.

“Angus…” I started.

“C’mon, Aisling. We could be good, y’know? It’d be great.”

“Angus.” I said, firmly, and the certainty in my voice seemed to catch his attention and sobered him, if only a little. “I do not want to get a drink with you. I will never want to. I am not interested, and I will never be interested. Give up on me, move on. I have nothing to offer you.” And he had nothing to offer me, but I halted myself before I crossed the line of unforgivable cruelty.

Angus swallowed tightly and moved away angrily – sloshing beer over the both of us. “You’ll change your mind.” He said, with certainty. “You’ll get over yourself, ‘nd come back down t’earth and realise that you’re jus’ a girl from the slums, you’ll always be a girl from the slums. ‘Nd you can’t get any better than me.”

“You’re a fucking asshole. Get the hell away from me.” I snapped, his words echoing in my ears. I rushed away from him and tumbled into the kitchen trying to ignore the stabbing pain in my chest that his had words triggered. It was not the reprieve I wanted, as the whole kitchen – including my siblings –  were witnesses to any meltdown I may have had.

So, I pulled myself together and dumped the plates, ruffling Ewan’s hair and checking on the three of them. After they’d assured me that they were happy to stay in the kitchen and listen to Gloria - Hal’s wife and kitchen hand - tell stories, I braced myself to face whatever was waiting outside the kitchen doors.

Angus had disappeared when I emerged, but I couldn’t help but scan the room for him.

“He’s gone.” I whirled around, and finding Fenrys leaning against the wall next to the door. “Left.”

I nodded, confused.

“I didn’t think you had that in you.” Fenrys commented, pushing off the wall and approaching me. “What you said to him.”

“How…” I started, but trailed off when I realised who I was talking to. “Nosy Fae.” I grumbled.

“Can’t help but overhear when you’re very publicly discussing your personal life.” Fenrys defended himself. “But I thought Angus would be a catch for a girl like you.”

“ _A girl like me_?” I echoed, fixing him with a glare. “What, because I’m just some girl from the _slums?_ You know _nothing_ about me, and don’t you dare presume otherwise.”

He had the decency to look shamed, but I didn’t have the patience to hear any half-hearted apologies or excuses so instead of waiting to hear what he had to say for himself I continued with my work as if nothing had happened. I didn’t see him for the rest of my shift, and nor did I see Angus.

Luce, Ewan and Conley were all half-asleep as we prepared to walk home. Hal had laden us with bags of leftovers, insisting that they would have gone to waste otherwise. Conley had fallen asleep on the worn booth cushioning, and didn’t wake when I lifted him into my arms. Luce was lugging bags and looking petulant, and Ewan was dragging his feet and begging to be carried – even though he was far too big for it.

“You alright?” I didn’t think Fenrys had lingered, but there he was – with his Fae friend. An apology lingered in his tone.

“Fine.” I said, curtly. “Thank you.”

“Need a hand?” He was still apologetic.

I wasn't buying it. “No, thank you. I can manage.”

“I’m sure you can,” he replied, lowly, but continued at a recognisable volume, “look, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

I supposed it was the closest to an apology I would get, but I was still not buying it.

“I’m not offended.” I insisted, adjusting Conley in my arms. “I don’t care what you think of me.”

“And you shouldn’t, because he’s a bloody ass most of the time.” Fenrys’ friend, his features kinder and almost catlike, teased.

“Gavriel is right.” Fenrys insisted. “I’m an ass, and I owe you an apology.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” I scoffed.

“Maybe not, but the least I can do is help you out.” He repeated.

“No, I really…” I started.

“Aisling!” Luce protested, cutting me off and shoving her bags into Fenrys’ arms. “These are heavy and I’m tired, stop being so stubborn.”

Fenrys laughed, superiority dripping from the notes, and passed the bags off to his friend, who accepted them easily. Fenrys, still smug, swung Ewan onto his back and smirked at me, inflecting his head for me to lead the way.

Fenrys and his friend fell into step beside me, and Luce pulled forward to wander in silence. I thought that Fenrys would let us continue in the same vein, but I wasn't so lucky.

“I was an ass.” He begun. It was a good start. “I mean it.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I hummed in agreement, failing to notice that Fenrys had frozen beside me until Gavriel whipped around to face us, his face riddled with some emotion I can’t place.

“What’s wrong?” Luce demanded, but was ignored, the two Fae consumed by some silent conversation. Luce began to approach me, but Gavriel’s arm shot out instantaneously and pushed her back against the filthy limestone building beside her, as far as possible from the alley Gavriel wouldn’t turn his back to, the alley which had never seemed so sinister to me as it did in that moment. Before I could protest his treatment of her, Fenrys was pushing me in the same direction and pressing Conley into my arms. Ewan, roused, was set to lean against my side.

“What’s going-“ I began, but Fenrys pressed a hand against my lips.

“Please.” He asked, barely audible. The plea leaked from his words to his eyes, and it was that look which made me nod – which made me comply without any regard to the dozens of sarcastic, grating comments that filled my head the second he shut me up. It was that look which made me clutch Conley tighter to my chest, which made me jostle Luce and Ewan more closely to my side.

The familiarity of Gavriel and Fenrys actions in that moment were tangible, obvious, as they fell into a familiar pattern – suddenly all their joking facades melted away and I was suddenly left in the undoubtable presence of two Fae warriors, their skills honed over what was likely centuries. The two of them moved with surety, but I couldn’t see nor sense what they were apparently investigating down that backstreet, that which was barely more than an awkward trail between two crooked townhouses.

Until, they let their guard down.

It was as tangible as their transformation had been at the start, it was in the drop of their shoulders and the relaxing of their limbs, in the way their hands moved away from where there were no doubt weapons hidden beneath their clothes. Their mouths moved, and I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t so focused on their every action, but the words were inaudible – lost in the night air, spoken too lightly for my ears.

I was still clueless as Gavriel stalked down the lane, a flash of steel in the moonlight focusing my eyes on the blade now clutched expertly in his hand. Fenrys’ face was grave as he approached, and I searched his features for some trace of a joke, waiting for a mocking comment that never came. Begging for it, wishing it would come because then it wouldn’t be so bad, whatever was down that alley. _Say something_ , but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Let’s get you home,” he said, instead. Gentle, scooping Ewan back up into his arms.

“Is there-?” I started and stopped at the look on his face as he finally returned my gaze. He shook his head, the movement barely a spasm of his muscle, but I understood. And all at once, I remembered Conley’s weight in my arms, noticed how Luce still clutched at the hem of my shirt.

“Home time.” I decided, reaching down to brush a hand across Luce’s shoulder. “Need to get you to bed, otherwise you’ll sleep half the day and we’ll never get to the bookshop.”

Luce’s rebuttal was half-baked, but better than nothing. I was reassured, ready to chalk the nights events up to some sort of supernatural Fae paranoia.

And I would’ve believed that, if it weren’t for the flash of bloodied blonde hair – the wan ivory skin, the crooked limbs, the blood, the blood, the _blood_ – down that alley.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I've got like 5 chapters of this written and this is highkey my fave so i hope you like it as much as i do!! (also i think there might be some issues w the tense bc i had to change it all from present to simple past and i might've missed some so yeah sorry)


	3. what haven't i given already?

> _"Zeus smirks, high and mighty and cutting, and asks, what would you give?_
> 
> _And Atlas - arms trembling and shoulders shaking - thinks: **what haven’t I given already**?_
> 
> _— In the End Sacrifice Means Nothing (via rhymesofblue)_

Mornings have always been messy.

Not so much on weekends, when everyone enjoyed a lie-in. But weekdays? Weekdays were often the bane of my existence.

My day always began at six, because I needed to have breakfast ready for everyone to be up at seven so nobody would be late. And, of equal importance, was the fact that I didn’t get to the bathroom first, I wouldn’t get hot water.

I was not expecting Penn to be up. After he worked Saturday night, he was still in bed when the rest of us left for a day scouring the markets and visiting Luce’s favourite bookstores and – on my part – working hard to avoid answering Luce’s questions about what we’d seen the night before, and he was gone for another shift when we came home that evening. So, having had not seen him since Friday, I was shocked to find him already in the kitchen – nursing a coffee – waiting for me.

“Morning.” He grunted.

“Wasn’t expecting you to be up.” I said, gathering ingredients for omelettes.

“I wanted to talk to you.” He offered. “We missed each other all weekend.”

“Yeah…” I agreed, “but aren’t you tired? What couldn’t have waited until this afternoon?”

“I talked to Angus.” He said, setting down his mug.

“Oh.” I avoided meeting his eyes, and concentrated all my energy into cutting tomatoes.

“Aisling…” Penn began, his tone was already reprimanding. I did not have the energy for that. “I know you’re stubborn, but you can stop playing this game with Angus.”

“I’m not ‘playing a game’. I don’t like him.” I said, moving on to breaking eggs. “And I don’t see how this is any of your business.”

“You’re being selfish. Angus would make you happy, he’d make everyone happy. Conley adores him.”

“Of course.” I said, under my breath. “I don’t want Angus.” I continued, louder.

“Do you even know what you want?”

“What I want,” I began in forced calm. In that moment, I felt every resentful, self-pitying, wicked thought I’d had in the last eighteen months rise to the front of my consciousness. I was unable to focus on anything more than that unrelenting anger and frustration. “Is one day where I don’t have to work twelve hours only to come home and clean the house. Where I don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to get things ready for everyone else. A single moment without Luce and Greer screaming at each other, without having to think of some new way to keep Conley entertained or stop Ewan from blowing up the kitchen. I don’t want to mend everyone’s clothes and go to the market. A day where you get off my gods damned back, a day where I can try and remember who I was before I was everyone’s fucking mother and counsellor and maid.”

“Aisling…” Penn said, softer then. I didn’t want him to apologize or calm me down. I wasn’t done being angry yet.

“I don’t want Angus. I don’t want him. Maybe I don’t know what I really want, but I know what I don’t.” I told him.

 “That isn’t what we’re talking about.” Penn insisted.

“Yes, it is! Because I shouldn’t have to be deciding on Angus to make everyone else happy. I shouldn’t have to settle for him because Conley loves him! I should have a say, I should have a choice. I’m nineteen, Penn.” I was falling to pieces, and I’d never really noticed what an unpleasant feeling it was to rip yourself apart. “Why can’t I act like it? Why do I have to act like the adult? Why do I have to make decisions that are the best for everyone? I should be allowed to be selfish, I should be allowed to say no to Angus if I want to. You were the adult, you were meant to be the grown-up. Why couldn’t you do that? Why can’t you do that? It shouldn’t be me, it should be both of us.”

“Aisling, that’s not fair. I was a kid too. I wasn’t ready either. I’m still not.” Penn had tears in his eyes. Penn hadn’t cried since our parents died.

“Well then grow up! I did!” I screamed, finally crying as well. “I can’t. I can’t do this. I have to go.”

“What? Aisling, I’m…”

“I’ll be back later.” I told him, still blinking back tears. “Don’t wait up.”

I rushed out of the room, furiously wiping away tears as I stumbled towards the front door.

“Aisling?” Ewan stood on the bottom stair, yawning. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” I told him, shooting him a watery smile. “I’ll be back later.”

“Why are you crying?” He demanded. “What about breakfast? Who’s going to take me to school?”

“I’m not crying, silly.” I said. “Penn’s taking over this morning, I’ll see you later, okay?”

I didn’t wait to see what Ewan would say, whether he believed me.

I ran.

I didn’t know where I was going. It was early, so there were few witnesses but I was still sure I must’ve been a sight – my ebony hair still wet from washing it that morning, eyes puffy and face streaked with tears. I wandered aimlessly, sniffling as I tumbled through the streets.

I had nowhere to go.

When I’m not home, I’m at work. My social circle barely extended beyond that, and where it did it was the friends of Penn who were nice enough to extend a hello to me as well. It was too hard to keep in touch with the friends I had before my parents died, and they all eventually got sick of hearing me turn down their invitations. I didn’t blame them, and I was not really angry at Penn. Not really.

I was angry at my parents. I didn’t like thinking about them, because I always felt guilty for the feelings of betrayal that came with the memories – or, more likely the lack of emotion. I didn’t miss my parents, I was angry at them. Angry that they got sick and weren’t strong enough to get better, angry that they weren’t smarter with their money, angry that they didn’t have any plans in place. Angry, bitter and frustrated.

I was angry at myself, too. Angry that I let Penn convince me to leave school, angry that I offered to take up more hours at work, angry that I got sick too and was strong enough to get better, angry that I was too busy being my mother to mourn her.

I shouldn’t be surprised that I ended up at the docks. It was familiar, especially in the early morning half-light. My father’s boat was the first thing to go after they died. Sold, and the funds earned went straight to paying what we owed on the house. But I remembered every morning spent here, and it was like nothing had changed as I watched the fishermen mill around. The smell is the same, and the stalls are set up in the same place. There’s a different boat where my father used to keep his, but I remember how we’d spend mornings here – selling what we caught to the stalls, repairing sails, watching the lazy tide of the river and sweating in the humidity that always seemed to build below decks.

Being there, the memories. They were making me sick.

I hated my parents. I missed my parents.

But it was more than that. I hate what I’d become. I missed myself.

I wandered all day, using the odd coins I found in my pocket to indulge my stomach as it began to grumble uncomfortably and pretending to be interested in the wares that were flogged in the market. I felt guilty as I slinked back home under cover of darkness, because I still didn’t want to talk to Penn and I didn’t want to face my other siblings. I didn’t know what Penn told them, and I had no desire to find out. I shouldn’t have left them. Penn had no idea what he was doing.

But then, I remember, that was the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see i guess?? i don't really have an excuse except for that i've been working like crazy and i really really REALLY suck at time management. this chapter is a bit of a filler and it's a bit short AND there's no fenrys so i hope you'll forgive me but i thought it was important to get a bit of characterisation in there... aisling is a huge character in my head and i wanted to be able to get a sense of that across... hope you liked!!


	4. iridescent terror with nothing left to lose

> _I am pure beast and skin, then,_  
>  shocking on the outside  
>  and horrifying  
>  on the inside.   
>  At my core, I am **iridescent terror**  
>  **with  
>  nothing left to lose**.
> 
> _From ‘At First, I Was a Forest Fire’ by Venetta Octavia_

 

“I want to kill those assholes,” Jonas swore, as he levelled a glare at the particularly rowdy trio of patrons that were seated in his section, ‘I don’t have the patience for homophobic pieces of shit today.”

It was rare to get many drunkards on a lunch shift, but not unheard of. “I’ll take them from here,” I told him, having heard the slurs they had hurled at him as he attempted to take their order. “I owe you for switching shifts with me last week anyway.”

“You,” Jonas grinned, “are a godsend.”

“I know.” I told him over my shoulder as I made my way into the kitchen.

I was, for once, glad to be at work. Penn and I were still working on opposite schedules, and I had yet to truly face him after what he had said to me that handful of days prior. And I was in no hurry to have that conversation.

Instead, I’d picked up extra shifts whenever I could, so that I was only home when was absolutely necessary.

I hated it, but I was just so _angry_. I was so mad at them – at Penn, at Angus, at my parents and at myself. I felt it all inside me, under my skin and stabbing at the soft part of my chest.

But I didn’t want to dwell on that.

Unfortunately, the lunch shift was slow, and it left a lot of time for dwelling.

“- and a serve of the frites too, but none of that truffle mustard bullshit. This ain’t some royal gala, y’know?”

“Sure,” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. These half-drunk labourers would’ve been the death of me. “That’ll be out shortly.”

Hal just about cried with relief when I dropped my order in, having – in boredom – committed to organising the dry store.

“Life-saver, honestly.”  He praised, happily returning to the grills.

//

My days passed much the same. It was weeks of dull, monotonous lunch shifts and hectic dinner rushes. Following that, I’d stumble home – exhausted – and pass out only to wake a handful of hours later to be up for my siblings. This schedule was always draining, but it was especially so when you threw in the whole avoiding Penn situation and dodging the hundreds of questions from my other siblings on the matter.

It was always on my mind. But on an especially busy Saturday night, I hadn’t had the time to ponder the issue. For once. Until…

“Your cute brother hasn’t shown up in a while.” Jonas commented as we attempted to organise the mess of dockets on the pass. “Been busy, I guess?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I said, stiffly. “Probably sick of you making a pass at him.”

“Funny.” Jonas elbowed me.

“I spose he could do worse.” I added, loosening up.

“Yeah, like… Elsie.”

“Like Elsie.” I agreed with a wince, remembering the horrible four months last year in which Penn and that insufferable ditz were joined at the hip – or, more accurately, at the lips.

“I’m getting slammed out here.” Bess rushed in, her usually bright face sweaty and flustered. Before we could move to help, she continued in a less irritated tone. If anything, her voice dripped with innuendo – it was a dizzying shift, and I winced at what was to come. “Aisling, your favourite customer is here. Booth four.”

I shoot her a confused look, wondering who could be so important that I’d steal a table from Meg’s section – not that she would have complained about it. As soon as the booth came into view it all made sense. He was there at least once a week – sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by a dizzying array of friends and colleagues. That night, he looked tired – usually glowing face lined with worry. Purplish, veined bruises under his eyes. He hadn’t been in for a couple of days, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in as many.

“You look like hell.” I told him in greeting.

“Oh, how you wound me.” Fenrys winced mockingly, augmenting the exhaustion in his expression.

“I’m serious, you look like shit.” I repeated. “You should be sleeping, really. Not hanging out at this place.”

“Sleep is for the weak, darling.” Fenrys said, bracingly. Bitingly. Bitterly. “Haven’t you heard?”

“I hadn’t. Sounds a bit idiotic to me, but it’s your funeral.” I ignored the endearment and the brazenly apathetic tone. “The usual?”

“You’re the best.” He told me, a confirmation. I smiled emphatically and scribbled down his order. As I made my way back to the kitchen, I considered the fact that he seemed a bit off. A bit less himself.

He’d never requested me before. He’d happened to be in my section, he’d dog me towards the end of the night, or he’d catch me as I dropped off orders. But he’d never asked for me. Not in the month and a half that he’d been actively making himself known to me.

It was disconcerting, to say the least.

I had enough on my plate, as it was. I didn’t have time to worry about the whims of some bored high-class Fae looking for distraction in the slums.

And that’s all Fenrys wanted. I was sure of that, then. At least.

At least he had the gall to go after whatever it was he wanted, however irritating it was to me. It was more than I could have said for myself – my big words and complaints remained just that, complaints. They were in the universe then, but all that seemed to have meant was that I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t miserable anymore.

Try as I might.

“You look almost as miserable as your boyfriend.” Bess told me as I collected drinks at the bar. “Trouble in paradise?”

“You are making less and less sense.” I replied, ignoring her as I tried to maintain a precarious balance on the overloaded tray of tankards I had lifted into my arms. “I need three more.”

“You can’t carry three more.” Bess told me, but began pouring nonetheless, “and you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“That doesn’t mean it makes any more sense.”

“What I’m saying is,” Bess began trying to fit more glasses on the tray, “your Fae friend has been in more than some of our regulars lately. And he only talks to you.”

“Okay.” I said, not sure what I was appeasing or agreeing to. “And?”

“And,” Bess sighed, exasperated. “I’m just saying, would it really be so bad for you to actually try and have fun and stop acting like the world is falling?”

“I don’t-” I began, affronted.

“You do.” Bess said with finality. “You do, and it’s really depressing sometimes so all I mean is that it’d be great not to be exposed to that angst like all the time. Let your hair down, Aisling. You’re nineteen, not forty.”

It was the same conversation I’d been trying to have, the same thoughts I’d been trying to make sense of. Just said in a more… blunt manner.

But, for once, Bess had a point.

//

Fenrys liked cheap beer. He’d had more than usual that night, but none of it had affected him. I assumed it took something special, something strong, to turn a Fae into a drunken mess.

I was delivering him his fifth pint when I made up my mind. I was going to ask him when I delivered him his second drink, but then I lost my nerve. My courage failed me on serves three and four too. But I was sure now.

“You right?” He asked, as I unceremoniously plonked the drink on the well-worn table.

“I finish in twenty minutes.” I blurted. “Walk me home?”

I expected to feel reviled at my words, at my request. At asking anyone for anything, even if it was so harmless. But it never came.

“If only you didn’t look like you wanted to be sick, then this would be a perfect moment.” Fenrys said, his tone wistful.

“Yeah it’s a real story to tell the grandkids.” I bit, feeling more like myself.

“There she is.” Fenrys grinned wolfishly.

“Can you ever give a straight answer?”

“Of course, but you make it so easy.” Fenrys laughed. “But yes, Aisling, I’d love to walk you home.”

“Great.” I said, abruptly turning away.

I didn’t speak to Fenrys for the rest of my shift, but when the twenty minutes were up he met me at the door to the kitchen as I exited, slinking on my coat and shoving my tips into my pocket.

“My lady.” Fenrys offered me his arm.

“Don’t be weird.” I told him, elbowing past him to walk ahead.

“Oh, I’ve missed our little chats.” Fenrys pondered as we made our way up the street past the tavern. “So, what bought on this little… lapse in judgement?”

“I’m sick of being… me.” I told him with uncharacteristic honesty. “And willingly asking to spend time with you was the least _me_ thing I could think of.”

“Gods, you really know how to stroke my ego.”

“Sorry.” I winced, realising what I’d said. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t… ask for anything, ever. It’s too selfish, and I don’t have time to be selfish. I answer other people’s questions, I do things for other people. And I’m sick of it. I want to be done, but I don’t know how.”

“Well, as someone who’s had time to perfect the art of being selfish over a few hundred years I can tell you it’s not so hard to master.”

“Sure, when you’ve got all the time and means in the world, no responsibilities or siblings or-”

“Bloody hell, you don’t hold back, do you?”

“I just mean… Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Fenrys replied, and there was no hint of a grudge in his words. “Not everyone is blessed with my perfect life.”

“What a cruel world we live in.” I said, and we lapsed into silence as we wandered across cobblestones. “So…”

“So?”

“How’d you end up here?” I asked Fenrys, suddenly aware of how little I really knew about him.

“You asked me to walk you home?” He said, just to annoy me.

“Ass.” I told him.

“Well, it’s a bit of an open question.” He said, but continued at the biting look I shot at him. “I don’t know, I just followed my friends over here. I wasn’t really… home where I used to live.”

“So, you just tacked yourself onto your mates?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Found a pub I really like right near my place and my work and there’s this bratty waitress…”

“Oh yeah?” I elbowed him, and he swatted my forehead in retaliation.

And, as all good moments do, it seemed to end all too soon.

Fenrys stiffened in that inhumane way, and for the second time I was struck by how his demeanour morphed so completely into that animal, natural predator. We were on a narrow street, some residential alley occupied by those lower-middle class who straddled that odd line between the slums and the rest of Orynth.

Fenrys prowled forward, and I – as silently as I could – followed. It took me some time to see what he had sensed far earlier.

A body, curled on the stones.

She wasn’t dead yet. Beneath the layers of blood-soaked linen, she was heaving rattling attempts at breath.  

I recognised her eyes the same time she knew mine. I pushed past Fenrys instinctively, breaking through his hand on my shoulder.

“Aisling.” She mouthed, barely a whisper. “Aisling.”

It couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be her. She was home, she was safe. She was asleep at home she was safe she was asleep at home _she was safe it wasn’t her it wasn’t her it wasn’t her_.

“Help.” She whimpered, blood pooling in the corners of her mouth.

The world was ending. My heart threw itself from my throat in a noise more painful than the hole that widened into a cavernous ache in my chest. My legs failed me, and I didn’t think about how the skin of my knees would join all that blood – her blood, my sister’s blood, _Greer’s blood_ – leaking between the gaps in the cobblestone.

As I dragged myself towards my sister – my nails grating themselves down on stone, my knuckles scraping and tearing and my limbs screaming – I registered this awful keening. Some horrible, mournful, animal sound.

I didn’t know I could be so monstrous, so pitiful and plaintive.

My worn hands slipped on her slick skin, coated in sweat and blood and tears. She was so small. How had I not realised how young she was? How slight, how fragile. How had I not take better care of her? Her hair gleamed as I ran my hand over it. Whoever had done this had taken care not to ruin those golden tresses.

“Greer.” I whimpered, struggling to get even that simple syllable out between those great, shaking sobs and the mournful, constant lament of my weeping.

Her hand flicked in my direction, and I consumed that movement with my eyes. I threw my entire self into the aliveness of it, the humanity in that simple flutter. 

“Aisling.” I had forgotten there was anyone else here. Who could live through this? Who could stand? Who could be here without falling to pieces? “Aisling, please.”

“Greer.” I sobbed. “Greer, Greer, Greer.”

“Aisling, she’s de-” Of course, Fenrys was still there. Of course, he was still there. Crouched behind me then, I could feel his hand ghosting over my shoulder. I didn’t look away from Greer as I threw my elbow back and prayed that was enough. I didn’t stop the rhythm of my thumb on her cheek as I hoped that I’d at least forced him to stumble back.

I knew better than to hope he would leave me alone. Leave us alone.

“You’re going to be fine.” I told her, concentrating on the movement of her eyes beneath their pale, bluish lids. “I’m here, and you are going to be _fine_.”

“Aisling, please.” My earlier actions had done nothing to deter him. “ _Aisling.”_

“I’m not going anywhere.” I didn’t know if I was talking to him or my sister, but I poured myself into those words. “I am going to fix this.”

It felt like falling asleep.

I tried to rebel against it, to fight it off. I kept focusing on Greer, but black spots in my vision made it difficult to see her, to concentrate. Everything was off-kilter, a little bit fuzzy, and I couldn’t tell if it was her own breath shaking her chest or my inability to see straight.

I didn’t have time to ponder my own insanity, I didn’t have time to do anything… not before everything turned to static. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i'm alive and also very sorry. i had an excuse last time but this was like... a massive break and i'm so sorry. this chapter was not at all what i intended, and i actually had much more planned before i got to that bit at the end. this is kind of the trigger for the actual PLOT of this thing i'm making, but i didn't think it would happen so soon but? it did? hope you don't mind because i don't! i think this turned out well and i hope it made sense (i may not have done a real proofread... i did a lazy girl version)! also! lots of fenrys to make up for my inactivity. i'm trying to be better at managing my writing and managing my time. idk who reads this but if you have good on you i appreciate you very much. thanks for everything as always.


	5. i'm waiting for your teeth at my throat.

 

 

> _because who cares when your throat  
>  grows its own black hole? we're all going to die._
> 
> _in that moment, we were almost human_   
>  _or stars, waiting for glimmer, so the universe_   
>  _would notice, or give us a soft touch. i said,_
> 
> _is my red, red enough? **i'm waiting for your teeth**  
>  **at my throat.** it's only good manners._
> 
> \- Stephanie Valente, from 'I'm Sorry, Is That Too Submissive For You?'

 

//

 

My bedroom was in the attic.

It used to be filled with broken furniture and relics from when we were all younger – threadbare stuffed wyverns and boxes filled with hundreds of scribbly crayon portraits and dozens upon dozens of well-worn outfits. But then Luce and Greer got older and started fighting. And I refused to sleep in my parent’s bed (though, when Ewan demanded his own room, Penn had none of the same qualms).

My bedroom was in the attic. I was not in my bedroom.

I opened my eyes to extravagantly carved stone ceilings, dim light filtering from windows mounted high on the wall. I had no inkling as to where I was.

“Oh, thank the gods.” A familiar voice breathed from my side.

“Penn?” My voice didn’t sound like my own. It was a ghost, a rasping echo. “Where… What happened?”

“Fenrys bought you in, you collapsed on the way home from work.”

It all washed over me in an unwelcome hurricane of flickering images, memories rising to the surface with the bile in my throat.

Greer. Greer. Oh, my gods, _Greer_.

“Is Greer okay?” I sat up, repressing the urge to vomit as my head tumbled.

“Greer?” Penn asked, confusion laced his words. “Greer is fine, why wouldn’t she be? She went on a bit of a bender with Reyna, so she’s not allowed out for two weeks but what else do you expect from a sixteen-year-old?”

“A bender?” I asked, confused.

“She doesn’t remember a thing from Saturday night. Fenrys bought her home too, says he stumbled across her on his way to our house to tell me where you were. She was a bit cut up, but he did some magic healing thingy and she’s sorted. She’s not happy though.”

“She’s okay?” I asked, there was a hand in my chest – clawing my heart. “She’s really okay?”

“Moody as all hells, but yes. What’s with the sudden concern?”

It was loosening.

“No, I just, I had these awful dreams – they felt so real. I could have sworn...” Images danced through my mind. Greer, strewn across the cobblestones. Greer, sallow and pallid and lifeless. Greer, dead.

“Well,” Penn looked startled at the emotion in my voice, his joking response lacklustre and half-hearted considering it. “Greer looked fine when I saw her about an hour ago. Grumpy as all shit, as I said, but nothing to give yourself a conniption about.”

“It was horrible, Penn. It felt so real.” The memories hurt too much to be a dream. “But, if-”

I was half-convinced that it was all some horrible nightmare bought on by exhaustion and guilt, ready to force away that sinking feeling in my chest and brush off that gaping wound that found a home in my chest that night and wouldn’t budge. But then, a familiar figure stormed into the room. The only one who could make me doubt it all, the only one who could assure me of the truth.

I knew, as soon as I met Fenrys’ eyes – that half-crazed, relieved look on his face – that it was no dream.

I knew as soon as he whirled into the room, as soon as he slumped with relief as we made eye contact and he catalogued the colour in my cheeks and the ghosts of already healed scrapes on my face and knuckles.

None of it was a dream.

“There she is.” Fenrys smiled at me, that look of unimaginable relief disappeared from his features as if it had never existed. His smile was a cheap imitation of his usual wolfish grin, solidifying my suspicions. “All fixed up?”

“What happened?” I ignored his attempts at joking. “What’s going on?”

“Maybe it’ll take you longer to get back to work than I thought.” I could have sworn shot flit across his face, but it was replaced with that smile in less than an instant. Like it had never happened. “Shame. I’m missing my favourite waitress. Bess is too nice, and my ego really doesn’t need any stroking. I need someone to take me down a peg”

“Stop it.” I bit.

“Aisling, what are you talking about?” Penn asked, stealing my attention from the Fae momentarily.

“What happened.” I demanded of Fenrys, ignoring my brother.

“Are you okay, really?” Fenrys asks, raising a hand as if to brush my cheek, before pulling back like he’d been burnt. “You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.”

“Gods, stop! I know you don’t take me seriously, but I am _losing_ my mind. Tell me the _truth_ , please.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Fenrys said, all quiet and sombre suddenly. “You collapsed on the way home from work. The healers could probably tell you more.”

“You’re lying.” I insisted. “You can’t look at me like you did when you walked in, like I’d _died_ or something, and tell me that _bullshit_.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He repeated.

“Tell me the truth!” My voice was uncharacteristically shill. I didn’t sound like myself. That was happening a lot, I realised. “I need to know the truth.”

“I-” Fenrys looked more conflicted than I’d ever seen him, but just as I thought he might finally tell me the truth. But I was wrong, as usual. “I hope you feel better soon. I have to go.”

It wasn’t a dream. I barely got my head clear of the pristine sheets before I threw up the meagre contents of my stomach all over the tiled floor.

//

There was a conspiracy, I was sure of it. The healers wouldn’t let me leave, and Penn and Fenrys were behind it. I was sure.

“I feel _fine_.” I insisted, for what felt to be the hundredth time. “All I’m doing is staying in bed… I can stay in bed at home, too.”

“We’d like to keep you for observation, just for a little while longer.” The healer replied, automatically.

I glared at my hands, folded atop the creased linen sheets. “Can I at least get up? Go for a walk?”

“Maybe this afternoon.” The healer said, noncommittal. I was never getting out of there.

It’d been two days since I’d woken up, and four days since I’d apparently ‘collapsed’ on the way home from work. I was going stir-crazy, and with each torturous hour of inactivity I grew more desperate for answers and even more convinced of the delusional fantasies I had come up with to explain what I knew had actually happened that night.

Greer had died. And then she hadn’t.

Penn bought her to see me last night, upon my hysterical insistence. I hadn’t cared how late it was, how bizarre it would sound to anyone else. I had broken down when I saw her, and the tears had continued to fall for hours after they left – until I wept myself into a fitful sleep. She’d been confused and embarrassed by my reaction, shrugging me off and complaining that I was going to stain her dress.

But I couldn’t get that image out of my head – I couldn’t reconcile how broken she was in my mind with how she had looked then – the same, smiley Greer I was used to. Not even a scratch.

I considered picking at the meagre lunch provided to me – the bland ingredients apparently best suited to abetting the healing process – out of boredom, but that morning I’d made Penn promise to bring me real food when he returned in the evening. And I didn’t want to ruin that experience.

Gods, I was bored. The highlight of my afternoon was shaping up to be a decent meal.

That is, until Conley came barrelling through the door – his entrance accompanied by Penn’s distant scolding (‘ _stop running! You’ll fall and break your nose!_ ’) and soon followed by appearances from my other three siblings.

Conley threw himself onto the bed, and promptly nestled himself beside me, clinging to my arm and chattering about what he’d done since we’d last seen each other – a lot of drawing and playing knights with Ewan and bothering Angus (who, I soon learned, had been an indispensable help to Penn in my absence, much to my chagrin).

Luce and Ewan climbed onto the bed at my feet, interspersing Conley’s chatter with their own factoids and corrections while Greer and Penn found chairs and joined us. With them all around me, sneaking mouthfuls of leftover chicken pie when the healers weren’t looking, it was almost like being home.

But not quite.

The room still smelt too clean and it was too cold, and the roof was still all wrong. I kept glancing at Greer every few minutes, just to see her laughing and chatting and breathing and _living_ to reassure myself. But with my family there, I could almost forgive it that.

But not quite

//

My siblings left after an hour, forced out both by the looming shadow of school and work in the morning, and by the increasing hostility radiated towards them by the gaggle of healers.

That left me but nothing more to do but fall back into that same cycle of boredom. Except then, I didn’t even have the promise of food to keep me sane.

I didn’t even try to convince the healers to let me do something. Anything. It would have been futile. Despite this, I was desperate for distraction. I wasn’t tired, I couldn’t even bring myself to try to sleep. There was no point, really, but I couldn’t help but hope.

And, as it turned out, I didn’t have to hope for long.

“Want to get out of here?” The man who approached my bedside was completely unfamiliar to me. He cast a long shadow over my frame, towering over me. His cocky grin did nothing to endear him to me.

“Do I know you?” I asked, trying to sit up in an attempt to stop myself feeling so small in his presence.

“Aedion Ashryver, at your service.” He winked, like I was meant to be in on some secret. “Time for a little jailbreak, I think.”

His name was vaguely familiar – like the friend of a friend you’ve met in passing, like someone slightly infamous that you really should know but you just… don’t.

“That doesn’t really answer my question.” I said.

“I can see why Fenrys likes you so much.” Aedion fell into the seat beside my bed, kicking his legs up onto the mattress. “You’ve got some… spunk.”

“Spunk?” I raised my eyebrows at him, still wondering who this man was and how he knew Fenrys. And how much Fenrys had told him of me.

“You are going to fit _right_ in.”  

“I think you’ve got the wrong bed.” I told him.

“Aedion, what’ve you told her?” Another man, smaller with dark, short cropped hair and grey eyes, appeared beside Aedion, a disapproving look graced his features. “You said you wouldn’t tell her anything.”

“Aisling and I were just catching up. I hadn’t got to the good stuff yet, don’t worry your pretty little head, Nox.” Aedion stood up suddenly. “But now we’re all caught up and we should really get on with it.”

“Rowan and Ae-” Nox began, sounding both tired and exasperated.

“I know what they said.” Aedion cut him off, before extending a hand to me. “Coming?”

I had two options. Stay there, in that suffocating bed and ponder my own existence, probably coming up with a few highly improbable theories as to what had happened to Greer. What I had done to her. Or I could go with Aedion and Nox, and perhaps, maybe. Finally. Learn the truth.

I took Aedion’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello it is me - the most unreliable, irregular fanfic writer since never. sorry (is there a statute of limitations on apologising for big gaps between chapters? I hope not). i actually just am really bad at time management, and i'm working like every day at the moment (i'm not joking i worked ten days straight last week). when uni starts back i'll get into a more regular schedule, as i'll have access to my laptop a lot more. 
> 
> thank you all so so so much for your kind words and kudos and stuff with the last chapter especially, i was really nervous about it because its such an important part in the timeline i have going on! im adding replying to your lovely comments on the list of things i need to get better on, as i really do appreciate them!
> 
> also, a quick note - i was tossing up on how 'aware' Aisling was going to be in regards to the whole political situation in the world, and i ultimately decided to have her kind of uninformed and disinterested because it felt more true to her in my eyes - i feel that as a nineteen year old raising her siblings and working full time she would have more on her mind than knowing all about the going on in the 'government' (is that the right word? idk it fits tho!) because really the average teenager knows very little of that and i feel its more accurate. also it fits more with the story.  
> another quick note - i always pronounced Aisling like ayes-ling but i recently discovered it's meant to be more like 'ash-leng' and i'm having a CRISIS over it. she will always be ayes-ling in my head!
> 
> i'm sorry i'm so ramble-y so if you've read this far... here are some song recs as a present (these are all angsty Aisling and Fenrys anthems i listen to when i'm writing) - lay your cheek on down by moonface, elevator song by keaton henson (the SOUNDTRACK to this fic is his whole romantic works album honestly), under the table by banks, sorry by nothing but thieves & the night we met by lord huron 
> 
> you lot are the best, thanks for liking what i made up in my head


	6. keep your anguish separate from the rest

> _nothing quite as melancholy as an unanswered message from a friend, four years ago  
>  (four years ago) you had friends            and you must resist the urge to romanticize this_
> 
> _but it’s  
>  true you knew               loneliness_
> 
> _less,      it’s true you could **keep your anguish separate  
>  from the rest** , it’s true you_
> 
> _were better and brighter and dreamt of more than just a strange shoulder                       warm & firm against your head_
> 
> four years ago // amrita chakraborty

 

//

 

“-What I’m saying!” Voices, snippets of arguments, drifted through the heavy wooden doors. I doubt those within were aware that it had been left ajar. “Wouldn’t you want to know the truth?”

“You have to admit they have a point. She’s unstable, we’ve seen that. If – _if_ – she is told, it has to be in the right way.”

Aedion, who had been leading me through unfamiliar halls, came to a sudden halt – mere inches from the door.

“They aren’t going to be happy.” Nox reminded us as he caught up. “They are so not going to be happy.”

“Yes, we’re well aware of that fact. And we’re prepared to deal with the consequences.”

“We are?” I asked.

“We are.” Aedion confirmed with a steady nod.

“Gods, you’re going to get me fired. I like this job, a bloody lot more than my last one and if-” Nox began.

“Excuse me, but what is going on?” I asked, feeling as though my head was spinning. “Where even are we?”

“The palace, obviously.” Aedion replied, as though any of it made sense. “Where else would we be?”

“The palace? What the-”

“All in due time, dear Aisling.” Aedion offered with a smirk. “All in due time.” He continued, as he pushed the door open with a flourish.

“Due time apparently means right this fucking second.” Nox sighed, pushing past the two of us to make his way silently into the room. The room was smaller than I’d expected – those elaborate doors exuded a sense of importance and I’d immediately assumed they lead to some grand ballroom of a sort. But it was no ballroom, it was more of a lounge – a few overstuffed sofas assembled around a smouldering fireplace, walls lined with bookcases and a desk, piled with loose paper and strewn with open volumes. Nox fell back against a bookcase, leaning there and disappearing – as if he had been there the whole time.

“- fifth victim in two weeks! And we’ll lose any insight she would have had into what is stalking this city, because _you_ were so preoccupied with making sure that girl wouldn’t find out what she is!” A Fae I didn’t recognise was speaking. He was far from shouting, but everything about his tone and demeanour suggested rage. Cropped silver hair did nothing to hide the harsh black tattoo that was etched onto his face, as much as the lines of anger and worry were.

“If you knew her, if you knew what she’s dealing with already, you’d have done the same.”

Fenrys. He sat alone on one of the sofas, and if I hadn’t heard him speak I would have sworn he was relaxed. It was funny. I’d wanted so badly to see him before. I’d wanted to give him a hard time and feel like myself again – because I felt like he wouldn’t treat me like I was broken. I hoped that maybe he’d make me stop feeling like a little bit of me had gone missing that night, like there was something a little off inside my chest.

But then, the last thing I wanted was for him to notice me. I wanted them to keep arguing, I wanted to listen.

I wanted to know what the hell was going on.

But, as it seemed to have been doing a lot, my luck failed me.

“Aisling.” Fenrys stood up instantaneously, as if he sensed me there. “What are you doing here? You should be with the healers.”

“I’m fine.” I told him, but he didn’t seem to hear me.

“Fucking hell. Aedion, what the hell were you thinking?” Fenrys demanded, spotting who stood at my side.

“None of you were going to do the right thing.” Aedion replied, casually, as though everyone wasn’t glaring at him.

“The _right_ thing?” The woman who spoke was probably the most beautiful I had ever seen – even with her face screwed up in disappointment and anger. “I wasn’t aware we’d made that decision.”

“I don’t think it’s our decision to make. It’s her life.”

“Maybe,” I had overlooked the woman lounging languidly in the armchair nearest the fire, but now as she stood it was hard to look past her. It was as if everyone gravitated around her, and it seemed impossible that I hadn’t noticed it before. “We should stop discussing this in the third person, seeing as she is _right there_.” She nodded towards me, a strange kind of smirk on her face. “Apparently, the decision has been made for us.”

“But-” Fenrys began, eyes still watching me carefully. He was the only one who hadn’t snapped to attention and had continued to watch me as though he was waiting for me to fall to pieces.

It was infuriating. I wanted to slap him.

“It’s out of our hands now.” The woman was watching me, so everyone was watching me. “So, what would you like to know?”

It took me a moment to realise it was a question. I had never felt so small, like a beetle they had found crawling across the floor. Always waiting for the boot to drop.

And how was I supposed to answer that? How was I supposed to put into words how twisted everything inside me felt? How I didn’t even think I knew who I was anymore. I felt helpless, but it was a different kind of helplessness to the one that had made itself a home in my life over the past year.

Here, there were a half dozen people, watching. Waiting. Ready to help me.

But I found I didn’t know how to ask.

“C’mon, you were so chatty a minute ago.” Aedion elbowed me.

“What am I meant to say?” I swallowed. “Really? _What do I want to know_?”

“There we go, lay it on us.” Aedion said, almost conspiratorially.

I took his invitation and ran with it.

“Someone killed my sister.” I said, shocked that my voice remained steady. “My sister died. I watched her die, I felt it. But then she walked through that door and everyone’s acting like everything’s fucking normal, like the _world didn’t fucking end_. And now you ask me what I want to know? I don’t even know who any of you are!”

Gods, I was so angry. Why hadn’t I realised how angry I was?

“So, what do I want to know? How about what the _rutting hell_ is going on? Can one of you tell me why I feel like a little bit of me might have died as well?” I demanded. “Because there is something wrong with me. There is something going on. I feel like I’m losing my mind and everyone’s treating me like I’m insane. My own brother thinks I’ve lost my mind. And you! You wouldn’t even fucking _look_ at me!”

I turn my rage on Fenrys, who has the decency to look ashamed. He doesn’t even open his mouth to placate me, and he won’t meet my eyes again. I want to slap him.

“You won’t even talk to me! You saw it too, you were _right there,_ and you _told me she was dead_. I remember all of it, I remember every torturous second! You were there! Y-you’re the only one who- who-” And then, I was crying. Everything was there, right on the surface. As soon as I did some digging, it welled up and flooded. And suddenly, I couldn’t look past it. It was, like so many other things, something I would just have to get over.

“Aisling…’ Fenrys stepped closer to me. But I didn’t want him near me.

“No. No.” For every inch he moved closer, I moved back. “Don’t. You wouldn’t tell me the truth. I want the truth.”

“Are you sure?” The silver-haired Fae spoke up, steady eyes trained on my shaking form. “Once we tell you, you won’t be able to forget, you won’t be able to go back to your life and act like it’s all normal.”

I didn’t say anything but met his eyes. It was as close to an invitation as they would get. I had said my piece, I had embarrassed myself enough.

“Your sister didn’t die.” The woman in the armchair was sitting forward now, elbows resting on her knees. Her golden hair had fallen around her face, but those impossible turquoise eyes shone through the shadow.

“I saw-” I began, disbelieving.

“She didn’t die.” She insisted. “But she came as close as you can. She was on the brink, and you bought her back.”

“You healed her.” Aedion translated.

“Healed?” I repeated. “How could I..?”

“Fae, and some demi-fae, have certain… abilities.” The woman unfurled her fist, a flicker of flame rose from her palm. “Most have an affinity towards one form or another… And, it seems, you have a gift for healing.”

My head pounded as I tried to make sense of what she was saying. It almost sounded as if…

“Right.” I said, frustrated. “If you weren’t going to tell me the truth that’s fine, but you didn’t have to make up some ridiculous story.”

“You have Fae blood, Aisling.” The dark-haired woman said, her voice soothing.

“Sure. I’m a lost princess too, right? And Greer, she’s a demon?”

“Aisling, please. This is serious.” Fenrys pleaded.

“Yeah, just like everything else, huh?” I bit. “This is my _life_ , it’s my _family_. It’s not some game for you all to play. The orphan girl from the slums, great entertainment for you all in your ivory tower. Well, count me out next time. I don’t want to play.”

“Aisling…” Fenrys was still pleading, as if urging me to see reason. I didn’t have the energy to try and unravel the truth in his tone. I was so, so tired.

“I want to go home. I want you to leave me alone.”

“We told you, you can’t just go back to normal now. You don’t know how dangerous it can be. For you, for everyone around you.” The silver-haired Fae spoke up.

“No. Maybe I am crazy. But gods, all of you are too. You’re all wrong. You have to be.” I choked out the words, catching them like a snarl, ignoring that fraction of my mind that told me that maybe I wasn’t being the most rational. That maybe, if it was all just an elaborate scheme, they would have given up the gambit.

“That’s not a great way to speak to your King and Queen.” Nox offers from his place in the shadows.

I blink, taken aback. I didn’t think that anything could have surprised me at that point.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you both. This has really instilled a lot of respect and confidence in me, I’m sure Terrasen is in great hands.” I snarled, faking a curtsy. I found that nothing in me could make me care about anything, make me feel anything except the exhaustion in every fibre of my being, right down the marrow of my bones. It didn’t matter that every description I had heard of Aelin Ashryver Galathynius built to an image of that blonde woman, it didn’t matter that Fenrys looked as though my words caused him physical pain.

None of it mattered. And I didn’t care.

“You might consider moving the infirmary elsewhere. A basement is hardly conducive to healing.” I offered as a farewell, not making eye contact with any of them as I whirled out of the room.

It wasn’t until I heard the heavy door slam behind me that I let loose the heaving sob that had been building in my chest, and the whole week poured out of me in great hysterical tears.

I still didn’t know what had happened. I still didn’t know why I felt like I was broken. But I was so tired, I was so sick of it all.

I was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's me! this chapter should hopefully answer a lot of the questions you might have had, and now you might have some idea of what the hell is going on (trust me, i do have a very detailed plan of where this going, and we're finally on our way!), though there are still lots of things to be resolved and built on!   
> a quick note - i have been writing aisling for like three years (fun fact: this was originally a dorian/oc thing in my head - but aisling has always been aisling - and i think she and fenrys are a much better match) and i decided i wanted her to be a 'healer' almost as soon as i decided i wanted this to be a fenrys fic, which was way before TOD came out and we learnt all about healing and the (amazing amazing AMAZING Yrene). so some of the magical elements may not add up to what we've learnt in TOD, i've changed some things but parts of it are just too integral to other parts of the story to change so i've built on canon for some of it!  
> as always, you are all amazing and i appreciate every hit, kudos and comment. see u soon


	7. i claimed nothing but hunger as inheritance

 

> _Salt is nothing like forgiveness / I am not who_  
>  _I thought I’d be. I had branches but no roots /_  
>  _nothing to stop the soil falling through my_  
>  _fingers. **I claimed nothing but hunger as**_  
>  _ **inheritance** / death can be as generous as it is_  
>  _starving._  
>  \- Yves Olade, from ‘Red-Light Running’
> 
>  

 

//

 

It felt like nothing had happened. It was a cliché, but it was true.

When I had stumbled home a week ago, I had been exhausted despite myself. I had spent days in that bed, and all I had wanted to do was spend days more in bed. My own bed, the mattress flattened after too many years of use, the threadbare quilts, the roof steep above me. But I couldn’t shake that ache in my bones, a lingering reminder that there was something a little… _off_ still.

But it felt like nothing had happened.

Almost.

It was still hard to look at Greer without seeing that blood, that pain. I sometimes found myself waking, suddenly, with the only way to soothe my racing heartbeat and shake that fear was by passing by Greer’s room and seeing her, safe and sound and asleep and _safe_. Once or twice, it had been so bad that that anxiety had leached into territory that bordered on insane – I spent those nights sleepless, wandering the house, checking to ensure every single one of my siblings was still breathing, something in my veins rattling and aching and singing to be let out.

It wasn’t every night, but it was enough.

Enough to worry Penn, enough for Bess to ask what had been keeping me up all night (judging by her tone and the raised brow when she had asked, I doubted she had any idea what was really going on).

Bess’ oblivious commentary was the only thing that had changed about work in my absence, except for the absence of Fenrys, which was a factor I was staunchly devoted to ignoring (even when Bess’ comments explicitly mentioned him). Somehow, Paddy had not noticed that I hadn’t turned up to any of my shifts for a week. Unsurprising, as even after a year and a half working there, he still called me Ainsley. Still, I was grateful to Bess and Jonas, and even Meg, for picking up the slack. I suspected I would be covering for them on every unavailability for the foreseeable future to make up for it.

My days had returned to their normal ebb and flow – watching my siblings, working, and sleeping (the one deviation was that sleep was now a foreign concept, something that was vaguely familiar to me only in the odd hour I seemed to be able to sustain). It was a familiar routine, and I was too comforted by it to be riddled the same disenchantment that had plagued me of late.

I always knew when someone was navigating the stairs to my room: the fourth stair creaked, and the eleventh was wonky, and everyone always stumbled. Penn swore as he hurried to catch himself, and a second later he appeared in my doorway.

“Hey,” he began, “I’m going out for drinks with some of the guys from work, did you want to come?”

I knew he was only asking to be polite, and I felt the ‘no’ forming in my mouth before I’d even fully processed the offer. I’d never taken him up on an offer to hang out with his friends, so why should it have been any different then? But, Greer was home to watch the others and Ewan hadn’t almost burned the house down all week. So, I tried to ignore Penn’s look of surprise as I agreed and ignored the urge to take it all back as he left me to change out of my work clothes.

My apprehension heightened as I realised I didn’t have anything but work clothes anymore, not really. I dug through draw after draw, unearthing more stained shirts than one person should own – but, amongst that, an old tunic of my mothers.

I always looked more like my mother than anyone else. We had the same frame, the same wild, red-brown hair and tanned skin. The only real difference were my eyes. I don’t know where my eyes came from, their almost black hue starkly different to my father’s blue-grey eyes and my mother’s rich hazel.

So, I knew it would fit, though that didn’t stop me from feeling a weight in my stomach as I pulled it on. It was soft, the lilac material was worn from use and the neckline was at least a decade out of fashion. But it was flattering, and worlds removed from my usual attire.

Blessedly, it didn’t smell like my mother – that cinnamon fragrance she favoured had taken months to fade from the house. I don’t think I could have handled that.

Penn looked even more taken aback at my attire than he had at my agreement, but I shot him a look that closed his mouth firmly.

“You look nice.” Luce offered quietly, from the dining table. I’d told her she wasn’t allowed to leave the table until she finished the schoolwork she’d been shirking, and she’d spent the afternoon silently raging at me. It appeared she’d forgiven me now, though.

“Thanks, you nearly done?” I covered up my flattered surprise. She nodded, and I searched for something else to say. Not because anything needed to be said, but because I was trying to find some reason I was needed here, some reason I could convince myself that my ‘why not’ attitude was a farce.

“C’mon, we’re going to be late.” Penn reminded me, and I forced myself out the door with barely a glance back at Greer, Conley and Ewan – reading in the front room, watching me go.

//

“Then,” Clea was saying, her voice gaining volume with each word as she continued to gulp down pints of ale. “this _fae bitch_ has the gall to say that _I_ was wasn’t welcome in _her_ establishment, like she didn’t just stroll into town a few months ago.”

Some of Penn’s friends were nice, really.

Some, not so much.

Clea fell into the latter category. She was always a bit _much_ , and she never shut up – even when her opinions were causing many in the group to visibly cringe.

I was used to Fae in the city, and I’d never had a problem with them. Their business at The Green Lion kept me in a job.  But, I didn’t particularly want to discuss Fae, or anything Fae related. Clea seemed incapable of discussing anything else, and so I’d resigned myself to drinking more of the bitter ale than I was used to.

I was past the point where the taste bothered me, anyway.

My drinking wasn’t solely motivated by my irritation towards Clea.

The only thing that was really different about my life after was Angus. He was still a part of my orbit, but it was like he’d stepped back after what had happened in the pub that night, that first night with Fenrys. There were no more flirty comments, no more thinly veiled cries for attention. Not two months ago, I would have relished in that, but it was just a reminder of how different things were.

And, after all, hadn’t Angus been right? I was just a girl from the slums, and I was never going to get out of there. Everything special and different had been a lie, and I felt like an idiot for thinking that I was ever unique.

I could feel him glancing at me often from across the table. I’d met his eyes as Penn and I had arrived, and I could read everything in his expression. I didn’t doubt that Penn had told him everything – what had happened in the infirmary, how Fenrys hadn’t walked me home since.

 _I told you_ , Angus’ eyes had seemed to say, _you were such a fool to think you could have more than this, sad girl from the slums_.

I didn’t look at him after that. I didn’t look at much but my drink as the tankard slowly emptied. From beside me, I felt Penn’s eyes and I knew I’d find worry there.

I wasn’t exactly acting like myself, and everyone had noticed.

Before he could say anything, I excused myself with a quiet apology, and slipped out into the street. The air was damp, and it bit against my skin as I fell against the pillar next to the door, a reminder that winter was well on its way.

I closed my eyes, my head swimming, but not enough to block out someone’s approach. I ignored them, sure that they would pass, but they stopped. I wasn’t really surprised to see Fenrys when I finally opened my eyes.

I just looked at him. Waiting, taking in how he looked – tired, worn, stressed, and waiting.

“Hear me out, at least?” He asked. It was strange, to have all the power. Usually, I spent my time with Fenrys struggling to stay afloat, to meet him quip for quip, but this was a totally new and strange dynamic.

“No.” I said, stopping him. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I want to be selfish. I want to do this for me, I’m doing what I want! What happened to being selfish?”

“It doesn’t always work out that way.” Fenrys said. His words revealed more pain than he would allow his face to show. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t” Gods I couldn’t stand being pitied. Fenrys had never pitied me, never made me feel small. Suddenly I felt like a petulant child. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I wish you could be selfish, I wish you could do whatever you wanted. Gods, you’re so young, you’ve got your whole life.”

“Don’t be condescending.” I ordered him, infuriated.

“I’m not, I’m being serious. This is bigger than us, Aisling, we have to put this first.”

“You think I’m a Fae, you think I _bought my sister back to life_! I don’t have to listen to anything you say, because nothing you say makes sense.”

“Aisling, I would never lie to you.”

“All you do is lie to me.” I ignored the fleeting imprint of pain in his tired onyx eyes. “I’m sick of being your personal jester, I’m sick of being your little joke. Was it charity? Did it make you feel better about yourself to spend time with the poor orphan girl? Was it easy to make a joke out of how miserable my life is?”

“Aisling, Aelin meant it when she said that your life can never be the same now. They aren’t going to let this go, they aren’t going to let you slink back into your routine.”

“Don’t you dare threaten me. I’m not scared of you.”

“I’m not threatening you, I’m telling you the facts. If you don’t learn to control yourself, what your limits are, you could seriously hurt yourself. You could hurt everyone around you.”

“Well, if I’m so dangerous you best leave me alone then. You wouldn’t want to get hurt.”

“Aisling.” I hated his tone, that sound – equal parts frustrated and pleading. It was familiar – it was the same tone I used when persuading Conley to take a bath. It incensed me. “You were convinced, you were so sure that Greer had died. What happened? Why don’t you believe what you saw?”

“Because YOU TOLD ME! You told me I was seeing things, that I was sick! So, forgive me if I don’t believe you right now, because I don’t know what’s real here.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but I couldn’t bare any more of it.

“Goodbye, Fenrys.” I said, quietly, before turning and walking back into the tavern.

Screaming at Fenrys in that freezing night had definitely sobered me up, but – if anything – I felt as though my head was even more clouded. The noise didn’t help, and one glance towards Penn and his friends and the thought of even trying to look as though I wanted to be there was making my head pound.

I made some excuse to Penn, feigning a migraine, and made to walk home.

Angus caught up with me before I was three feet from the door. “I owe you an apology.”

“What?” I asked as he met my stride.

“I was a dick, that night. I was pissed out of my mind, but I was still a dick.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“You didn’t deserve that, I just wasn’t ready to give you up.”

I nodded, uncomfortably. “You were kind of right, though. In the end.”

Angus glanced over at me, unsure.

I continued, without thinking. I was not sure what I was doing, but my head was swirling – the conversation I had with Fenrys echoing on and on.

“I mean, what am I really but a girl from the slums? At least you were honest.”

“Hey,” Angus said, placing what I’m sure he thinks is a comforting hand on my back. Low, on my back. I resisted the urge to cringe at his touch.

At least that hadn’t changed.

I turned towards him, about to assure him that I was fine. But then he was there, and there was a moment. A moment where I could have almost convinced myself that I wanted it. That I wanted him. A moment where I wondered if it would be so terrible; to marry Angus, to have children with his ruddy red-brown hair and suffer through dinner with his parents every Sunday evening.

But then I thought about what having his children would entail, and I withered, and the moment died.

I pulled away before I could let that look on his face develop into something more.

“I should get home.” I said, stepping away. Before he could reply, I was hurrying away, not paying attention to which direction I was walking in.

“Aisling, where are you going?” Angus was calling to me, but he knew better than to follow me.

I kept walking.

//

My father used to say that all roads in Orynth led to the river.

It was an old thing all fishermen say, part of their old superstition. They’d just as soon spout that old tale as tug on their collar thrice to will a full net or whistle a tune to bring on a favourable wind.

So, I wasn’t surprised when I found myself at the canal, the cobbled waterway built to help the melting ice from the Staghorns meet the ocean more swiftly. The water was dirty, as it always was at the dawn of winter – it was too cold for the ice to be melting fast enough to bring on a rushing current. I knew, as I always had, that if I headed downstream I’d find the docks, and then I’d be able to find my way home with my eyes closed.

But something pulled me upstream, and I followed that thread up to the next bridge. It’s older, one of the few footbridges. Most of the bridges are great arches of stone wide enough for two wagons to cross side-by-side, but there a few older wooden bridges wide enough only for a few people to hurry across.

It wasn’t until I was almost across the canal that I saw her.

_Greer._

Greer, Greer –

But it’s wasn’t.

That hair, that same gold, but then it was matted with blood, like rust. Those eyes, the blue not quite grey enough – but fluttering, failing, just as hers had. Fingers at the end of broken arms claw at the wood, bent at angles that turned my stomach. All around her were desperate gouges in the wood, where she had ground down her nails in desperation to get away from whatever it was that had ripped her bones from the joints.

She, like Greer, was too young. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen.

I fell to my knees at her side, tears already falling. She was breathing, but there was so much blood, so much pain.

I had to _do_ something. If Fenrys wasn’t lying, if it wasn’t all some cruel joke, then I could save her. I could have fix it, I could send her home to bed. To warmth, to safety, to a mother who would kiss her golden curls and fix her eggs in the morning.

I could save her.

I tried to remember how it felt that day, but the memories are a bit hazy. I’d been forcing them away for so long, repressing them, repulsed by them. I couldn’t quite figure it out, as much as I tried to force it out. I tried to find that pull in my gut like drawing water from a well.

I was taking too long; her breaths became more and more shallow beside me. I pulled and pulled at that cavern inside me, trying to find a way to pull that power out, to make it do what I wanted it to do.

But, as I searched and hunted and dug, she flickered out before me.

And I was left, clutching her broken, bloody hand in my own.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. sorry.


	8. i want to tell you everything. i want you to love me for it.

> _I tell too many stories at once. This too, is a violence._
> 
> _But **I want to tell you everything, I want you to love me**_
> 
> **_for it_ ** _, and I want you to forgive me after I say everything,_
> 
> _you asked me not to say._
> 
> James Allen Hall, from ‘I Liked You Better Before I Knew You So Well’.

 

Her fingers felt wrong in mine – it wasn’t that they were crooked and bent and all wrong. They were limp, there was nothing on the other end of my death grip.

At one stage, I must have started crying. The tang of salt and iron leached into my mouth as I took a great, shaking breath that is half-sob, half-gasp. I don’t know how blood ended up on my face as well, but it was there, and then it was in my mouth and it was all I could taste.

It was all my fault, all of it. I’d as good as killed her. I couldn’t save her.

I should have been able to save her, I should have been able to _fix_ it all. But I couldn’t, I didn’t. And there was something inside me that wanted to explode, something inside of me that was screaming.

“Aisling? Aisling?” The voice was distant, like it was the end of an echo, like someone was screaming through water. It was almost like it was in my head or coming from that pit, that screaming void, in my chest. “Aisling, please.”

There was too much noise, it was _screaming_ , it wouldn’t stop.

“Aisling, please, you have to calm down.” It sounded different, it was further away now. “Aisling, you have to put the shield down, then we can help you.”

Screaming, endless, uninterrupted, screaming. It was exhausting, draining.

I was falling, and the echoing, the shouting, seemed closer and louder suddenly.

I couldn’t save her, and I couldn’t stop the screaming, the aching, the hollowing out of my bones under that weight.

I felt my hand, slick with her blood and my sweat, slip away from her own. There was no protest from those broken, shattered fingers. So, I let go. And I fell.

//

I was sick of waking up in places that were unfamiliar, but I wasn’t entirely sure I was awake. There were moments where I would think I was awake. There would be people sometimes, a flicker of conversation. Once, I could have sworn a white wolf almost paced, almost nervously. Sometimes all I would know was a feeling inside me like my body was being forced to knit itself back together, to heal whatever fissure had opened in that well inside me.

The room I was in was nicer than the infirmary, nicer than my own bedroom. The bed was nicer too, and maybe that’s why I was so reluctant to open my eyes.

That, and the way I felt… Like I could still feel that hand in mine. How I still felt like I could feel that _thing_ inside me, the screaming that was just on the verge that I couldn’t ignore, that wasn’t going away.

I clutched my fingers into the quilt, trying to focus on the material – that soft, worn cotton. Nothing like the cold, bloody flesh and bone that was haunting me.

“You’re going to tear a hole in that.” The voice was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t bring myself to care enough about the mystery to lift my eyes from where they focused on my hands, wound in the fabric. “Fenrys will be glad you’re finally awake, he’s almost worn down my rug, and it’s one of my favourites.”

I didn’t have anything to say. I didn’t care.

I think I went back to sleep.

//

The white wolf was back, whining at my bedside.

And then Fenrys was there, running a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath.

And then he was gone, as if he’d never been there at all.  

//

I shot up gasping, my skin and the sheets were damp with sweat.

I could feel her blood, her blood on my hands. Her blood, all over me, my skin was slick with it. Salt and iron.

I had to get it off me, I had to get it _off_.

“Aisling!” My hands, the blood, were swallowed by bronze, scarred fingers. “Aisling stop!”

“Get it _off_ , get it _OFF_!” I could hear my voice, but it didn’t sound quite right. I didn’t shriek, I didn’t scream. I writhed still, and I could feel the blood in every pore. I wanted to rip my skin off, to scratch it raw. Anything to get rid of that feeling.

Those hands were pushing me down, into the mattress, forcing them down by my side. I continued to fight, I was getting blood all over them, I was staining the sheets red.

“Please, please get it off me. Please.” I sobbed. “Pl-please.”

Through my tears I could see Fenrys, his beautiful face contorted in hurt, standing over me. His hands held my arms into the quilt, and his lips moved though I couldn’t hear anything beyond my own wizened breath.

“Help me.” The words were barely a whisper from my cracked lips, but Fenrys seemed to understand.

I don’t know how long I was there – lying on the ruined bedsheets, Fenrys’s arms holding me down, begging and pleading for someone to make it stop. I was aware of people, all around me, but none of them _helped_. None of them made the feeling go away, they were all just there, witness to my misery and abject helplessness.

I was alone in my pain, Fenrys’s arms my only anchor.

//

When I woke up again, I was surrounded.

There was an air of anticipation, as if they’d all been waiting on me.

I didn’t look at any of them, but at my hands. They were clean. I know they were clean. I could still feel guilt though, like a lining of lead in my stomach. But my hands looked clean.

And there was no blood on the bedsheets, as far as I could tell.

I was relieved to feel like I was in my right mind, if only a fraction. I still felt that hollowed out emptiness, partly from that drain I couldn’t place and partly because I had failed. I didn’t save her.

“Where am I?” I asked. It grated on my throat.

“The castle, albeit in a much nicer quarters than you saw last time.” The blonde woman, the queen, answered. She stood at the foot of the bed, flanked on either side by the king and Aedion. The expressions on the queen and king’s faces were unreadable, but Aedion winked at me.

“Why… How long?” I asked again, ignoring Aedion.

“A week.” Fenrys was beside me, in a stiff, wooden chair. He sat forward, with his elbows on his knees. He looked like he could pass out there, just like that.

“A week?” I breathed, overwhelmed at the idea that I’d been in that haze for so long. It felt like no time at all, but at the same time it felt impossible that ten years had not passed. But a week was still a week. A week of missed shifts and leaving my siblings to fend for themselves.

“Don’t worry. I gave Penn the week off.” Fenrys said, but his grin wasn’t quite wolfish.

I sank back into the pillows, closing my eyes. That was one less thing to worry about, but I couldn’t shake the guilt, the shame. Bess always said I had a crippling fear of disappointment, but I hadn’t believed her until that moment.

“I have to go home.” I struggled to sit up, but it was like my body wouldn’t cooperate. “I have to _go_.”

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Aelin, the queen, left no room for argument in her words. When I dared to meet her eyes, I was met with nothing but gold-and-turquoise fire. “You’ve seen what happens when you try to ignore this. That shield you put up the other night practically collapsed the bridge, I can’t let you out in my city untrained.”

“You can’t keep me here.” I insisted. I couldn’t have collapsed a bridge. That wasn’t possible.

“I can do whatever the bloody hell I want.” Aelin says. “You don’t have to stay here forever but you will train. You will learn to control yourself before you burn out and kill yourself and everyone around you.”

“If you don’t learn, you put all of them in constant danger.” Fenrys spoke up. “Conley, Luce, Greer, Ewan, Penn, everyone you work with… All of them, constantly in harm’s way.”

I glanced at him, and it was the look on his face – the way he spoke as if we were alone in the room – that made me pause.

“Okay.” I said. “Okay. I get it. But I need to know some things first.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a minuscule chapter but i like where it ends and i love the flow of disjointed parts at the start that i didn't want to add to it and take away from the effect i think it had.   
> it's been a while like always but i appreciate every kind word just as much as ever!


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